


Daughter of Dragons

by Shaidou_Ryder



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Classiest fanfic you will ever read, Dragonborn - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Help I'm in love with this idea, She brings out the best in him, Typical Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-03-29 04:51:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13919763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaidou_Ryder/pseuds/Shaidou_Ryder
Summary: Nyla Stronghammer was raised among the Dunedain and trained to become a Ranger. Finding several villages destroyed by spiders from Dol Guldur, she tracks them into Mirkwood forest...and right into the hands of the Elven King, Thranduil. Will she be allowed to leave and finish her duties as a Ranger? Or will her heritage sentence her to death?





	1. The Nest

I had been trailing the spiders for many days; their webs trailed like unwanted gossamer tinsel over grass and bushes as they head towards the land of Erebor and through the forest of Mirkwood. Three days underneath the oppressive canopy of the wicked trees, and yet I still hadn’t caught up to them. Their webs were getting larger though, which gave me hope. The bigger the webs, the more of them there were. Eventually I would stumble upon a nest. 

Now, at last, I found at least fifteen of them; the branches of the trees were covered in fluffy white webs that glimmered slightly in the sickly light that filtered through the leaves above. With painstaking care, I stepped lightly across the gnarled roots burying themselves in the ground and drew my bow, arrow nocked to the string. 

“ _ I see you, filth, _ ” I hissed. “ _ Show your eyes. _ ” 

A chittering noise filled the air, and an enormous spider stepped delicately out onto the giant web above me. It clicked its pincers in apparent amusement. 

“ _ The huntress has followed us far, _ ” it clicked. “ _ Almost from Dol Guldur! _ ” Another spider joined the first, eight eyes fixed on the arrowhead in my hands. 

“ _ We have heard of you, the killing storm, _ ” it said. “ _ All of that hatred in your heart. Can you not just leave us be, as nature intended? _ ” 

“ _ You are not what nature intended, nor are you worthy of being left alone. The blood of villages stains your legs and webs. I will not allow them to go unavenged,”  _ I growled. 

“ _ Pity you won’t be able to--, _ ” the first one began. 

With a flicker of motion, my arrow was released. It lept from the string to bury itself into the first spider’s skull, spearing an eye and sending the monster crashing down from the web in the middle of its sentence. With a loud screech, the second spider dove forward towards me; its war cry soon brought the rest of the nest scurrying down to surround me. 

****************

“The intruder, my King!” the elven guard dragging me forward announce smartly. He dumped me into a heap in front of a large throne that looked like an ancient oak tree. I growled at him and pushed myself to my feet, before looking up to face the Elvenking. 

Immediately I found myself pinned by the intense gaze of icy blue eyes. His straight blonde hair fel past his shoulders, and a crown of branches nestled in the almost white locks. His massive shoulders and long slender limbs only served to add to the aura of power that hung about him. Instinctively I knew this was not someone to trifle with. 

“What are you doing in my forest?” he asked softly. I allow myself a small smile. 

“I am just a traveler, passing through,” I said. His eyes darkened slightly. Languidly strutting down the stairs that led to this throne, he came to stand in front of me. He was a good six inches taller than I was, and I had to look up to face him. 

“You speak the common language of the animals,” he purred. “You are hunting spiders from Dol Guldur, and you are a skilled fighter.” He turned to the guard who was still watching me. “You said that she killed all of the spiders, even after all of you arrived?” 

“Yes, King Thranduil,” the guard said. “She saved several of my men from being skewered and eaten.” 

The King turned his attention back to me. “Tell me who you are,” he whispered quietly, “and why you are here in my lands.” 

I shrugged. 

“I had a quarrel with the nest,” I said evenly. “As for myself, I grew up among the Dunedain. They discovered I had a talent for speaking with the animals, and they trained me.” 

“But you are not one of them,” the King said, coming even closer to me. His eyes roamed my body and face, taking in every detail. “You do not look like a Dunedain.” 

“I am not, by blood,” I said with another shrug. “They adopted me.” 

“And your family?” The King began to circle me, eyeing me with interest. 

“Dead.” The word drops from my lips with coldness. This was one thing that I would not discuss with him. 

He said nothing in response, continuing to look me up and down. Eventually he came to stand in front of me, icy eyes glinting with indecision. I lifted my chin and maintained his gaze. 

“I appreciate you helping to rid my forest of pests,” he said measuredly. “However, I do not take trespassing into my kingdom lightly.” He gave me one more look and then turned away, waving a hand to the guard. “Take her to the guest rooms,” he drawled. “I will decide what to do with her later.” The guard gripped my arm and yanked me backward. I jerked away from him with a low growl in my throat. 

“Don’t touch me,” I hissed. The guard’s face paled slightly and I straightened up, glaring at him. 

“Galeth,” the King said. “Escort her. I assume you prefer to keep your head?” The guard gulped and looked back at me. With trembling limbs, he gently took my arm and led me out of the throne room. 

 


	2. The Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Thranduil is an asshole about the Dunedain, and Nyla continues to defy him.

The King left me to my own devices for a few days. I wandered through his halls under the ever watchful eye of Galeth, who it seemed was assigned to make sure I didn’t try to escape. Not that I wanted to, at the moment. I was happy to rest in relative comfort, and it made a nice diversion from the quest I had set for myself. 

On the third day of my stay, Galeth coughed slightly as I made my way towards the stables. I turned and lifted an eyebrow in question. 

“Yes, Galeth?” I said quietly. He met my eyes only for a second, before hastily staring at the floor. 

“I just realized, I never said thank you,” he murmured. “You saved us, my men and I.” 

“Just remember not to lay your hands on me, and I’ll consider it even,” I said with a smirk. He glanced up to see the amusement in my face and instantly relaxed. 

“My lady, you were interested in the small library next to your rooms yesterday,” he said, taking courage that I wasn’t going to skewer him. I tilted my head, intrigued. He smiled. “Would you like to see a bigger one?” 

I stared at him, contemplating. I loved books, I always have. Living among the Dunedain, I could only keep one or two with me at the most, so libraries were a rare treat for me. I tried to resist, not wanting to find any sort of reason to want to stay here longer than I had to, but temptation prevailed. I nodded. 

“I would very much like that, Galeth,” I said with a warm smile. He returned it and offered his arm to me. 

The large library was central to Thranduil’s main hall, directly above an enormous ballroom. The smell of old books immediately assaulted me as soon as I stepped through the door, and I took an appreciative gulp of air in. Galeth chuckled slightly at my reaction. Towering bookshelves covered the walls, filled with every sort of book imaginable. I spun slowly in place, awed. 

“I’ve never seen so many books in one place,” I breathed. Galeth walked over to a nearby table and picked a book off of a stack. 

“ _ Tales of Beren and Luthien, _ ” he read aloud. I smiled. 

“Already read that one,” I said. I kept it in my saddlebag at all times. He shrugged and pulled another one down. 

“ _ A History of the Valar, _ ” he said. “Can you read Elvish?” I walked over and took it from him, thumbing through the pages. It was written in old Elvish, but fortunately I had studied under a great wizard who insisted that I learn it. I nodded. 

“I can,” I murmured, still absentmindedly reading a random paragraph. Galeth laughed at the hungry expression on my face. 

“There are chairs over in that corner,” he said, gesturing. “I will leave you in peace.” 

“Thank you, Galeth,” I whispered, glancing up. He looked away, embarrassed, and muttered something about checking the doors. He walked away stiffly, the back of his neck turning red. 

A few hours passed, and I became so enraptured by the book in my hands that I didn’t even notice someone was standing over me until a low, melodic voice said, “Enjoying yourself, my lady?” 

I looked up sharply to see King Thranduil standing over me, his eyes fixed upon my face. I bowed my head in acknowledgment of him. 

“Your Majesty,” I said. “Galeth was kind enough to show me your library.” 

“I see that.” His ice blue eyes bored into mine. He gestured at the book I was holding. “You read old Elvish as well?” 

“As Your Majesty can see,” I replied coolly. He smirked slightly. 

“I wasn’t aware the Dunedain taught their children to read,” he said arrogantly. “It is a surprise to me that you can.” 

I glared at him in response to the insult. 

“As a matter of fact, I studied under a great wizard; it was he who taught me to read not only in my own language but also in many others,” I said. “The Dunedain prize knowledge as much as physical prowess. It is what keeps us alive.” 

“A great wizard?” he scoffed. “As if one would become entangled in the Rangers of the North.” He turned away, boredom radiating from him. I rolled my eyes and returned to my book. 

“I’m sure Gandalf the Grey would be terribly offended to hear you speak of them as such,” I muttered. There was silence for a moment. Then, 

“You studied under Gandalf?” he whispered in shock. I didn’t respond, instead attempting to lose myself again in my book. 

Suddenly a long hand appeared, blocking my view of the words. Angrily I looked up to see his face mere inches from mine. 

“You King requires an answer,” he growled. 

“You are not my King,” I said in equally aggravated tones. “Nor do I have to put up with anyone that will continually degrade my family and myself.” I stood, forcing him to step back. “If you’ll excuse me, your Majesty.” Without so much as a backward glance, I moved around him and found the door through which I had entered. Galeth saw the look on my face and did not dare to speak as I stormed through the halls to the stables. 

 


	3. Dinner with the King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something has changed in him. She doesn't understand what or why. But it makes her slightly hot under the collar.

I had not spoken to the king since our spat in the library. He requested to see me, but I refused to go. He requested that I at least explore the gardens. I refused.  I kept expecting him to lose his temper, but to my surprise he never did. Instead, he eventually left me alone. Until...

“The King requires your presence at dinner tonight,” Galeth said quietly. I was in the smaller library again, hidden behind a pile of books. I looked up and saw apprehension on his face. 

“You’re not still afraid of me, are you, Galeth?” I teased. He shook his head. 

“You continue to defy the King,” he murmured. “I fear for your safety, my Lady.” I snapped the book in my lap shut and stretched luxuriously. 

“Do not worry about me, Galeth,” I said with a yawn. “I can take care of myself. In any case, perhaps it is time I dined with him if only to convince him to let me go.” 

Galeth looked a little sour at my words. 

“King Thranduil can be a very stubborn man,” he said. “I would not get your hopes up.” 

“Oh, you haven’t learned anything about me, have you,” I laughed. I stood and placed the book I was holding on the table. “You’ll escort me to dinner, I presume?” He nodded. “Good. I guess I should go and get ready, then.” 

*************

Thranduil sent a maid to my chambers with the dress that he wished for me to wear. One look at it made my face go white. 

“He can’t expect me to wear that,” I said quietly. The maid looked slightly nervous. 

“Is there anything wrong with it, my Lady?” she squeaked out. I looked at her. 

“It’s bright red,” I said. “I look awful in bright red.” I reached out for the material, sliding it between my fingertips. The maid gulped. 

“It is what he requested you wear,” she whispered. “It would not be wise to deny the King.” 

I laughed a little. 

“Oh, I have denied him a great many times already,” I said. “One more will not kill me.” I turned to the wardrobe in the corner. Thankfully, the King had begrudgingly given me a few dresses that I could wear. I rarely kept more than two days worth of riding clothes with me, and of course those would not be acceptable in his court. I fished through the dresses until I found one hidden in the back that I had failed to see before. Frowning, I pulled it out and gasped slightly. 

It was sleeveless, and a beautiful dark navy blue color. The bodice and the hem of the skirt were adorned with embroidered silver flowers. It seemed to flow through the air like water as I twirled around slightly with it still on the hanger. The maid’s eyes went wide. 

“I think I’m going to wear this instead,” I murmured. 

****************

Galeth’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he came to escort me to dinner. 

“That’s a dress,” he said quietly, unable to take his gaze off of me. “And…” he eyes stopped at my shoulders and arms, and his eyes grew even larger. I shifted unconsciously as he stared unashamedly at the silver scars that crisscrossed my skin. “My lady,” he whispered. “What has happened to you?” 

“Nothing, Galeth,” I said, shrugging him off. “Come, we don’t want to keep the King waiting.” 

Our walk to the dining hall was silent, although I could tell from the set in his shoulders that Galeth wanted to discuss more. I wasn’t about to let him, though. I had already come to terms with had happened to me, and I was loath to recall it again. 

He left me in front of the huge double doors with a low bow and a kiss to the back of the hand. His sympathetic eyes trailed over my scars for a millisecond before he turned and walked away. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the doors and slipped inside. 

It seemed as though most of his court was already there, though the food had not yet been served. The chatter of elven voices hushed as I approached the table. Keeping my head high, I stopped a few feet away and curtsied deeply. King Thranduil stood, his eyes roaming over me. 

“My lady,” he said. “I am delighted that you have come.” He rounded the table and came to take my hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it just as Galeth had done. I bowed my head in acknowledgment. 

“Your majesty,” I replied. “I was delighted by the invitation.” He smiled slightly, and a warmth I hadn’t seen before entered his eyes. 

“Come sit with me,” he commanded in a low voice. I bowed my head again in acquiescence, and he tucked my hand under his arm with practice movements, leading me to an empty seat beside him. As he pulled the chair out for me, he murmured in my ear, “I must say, I am glad you chose not to wear the dress I sent for you.” His fingers brushed my bare shoulder for a moment as he added in an even lower voice, “You look stunning, my Lady.” 

I tried to force back the blush that was threatening to break free at his words. He was completely different tonight, for no reason it seemed. Trying to gather my emotions back under control, I replied quietly, “Thank you, Your Majesty.” He smiled a little wider this time, and unable to think of anything biting to say in reply to that smug little smirk, I sat down and prayed that I wasn’t blushing too hard. 

I suddenly became aware of every eye of the elven court fastened on me. I straightened my shoulders and tried to put on a proud, unperturbed air as I looked around at them. Many refused to meet my gaze, but there were a few that held steady. One of them looked to be almost an exact copy of Thranduil himself, except where Thranduil’s eyes were a mesmerizing blue, this elf’s eyes were a deep, calming brown. He flashed me a smile and waved slightly. 

“That would be my son, Legolas,” I heard Thranduil murmur in my ear. 

“I couldn’t have guessed,” I said sarcastically. “Not that he’s almost the spitting image of you or anything.” I was surprised when Thranduil chuckled a little bit; I hadn’t heard him laugh before. 

“He is the best of me and my dear Celebren.” There was a hint of sadness in his words, and I turned my head to see his face twisted slightly in grief. 

“I am sorry, Your Majesty,” I whispered. “I did not mean--,” 

“It is no worry,” he replied smoothly. “She has been gone long enough that my heart has become accustomed to grieving.” He met my eyes and immediately they softened. “Tell me, Lady…” He frowned. “Where are my manners? You have been here more than a few days, and I have not even learned your name.” 

“I didn’t think you would ever ask,” I found myself teasing. He narrowed his eyes slightly and remained silent, waiting. I sighed. “My name is Nyla.” 

“Nyla,” he repeated. The sound of my name spilling from his tongue sent shivers down my spine. He smiled. “Tell me, Lady Nyla, what sent you among the Dunedain?” 

I shifted uncomfortably. “I would prefer not to relive my past, Your Majesty,” I said coolly, folding my hands in my lap and clenching them together. I expected him to continue pushing, but instead, a long, pale hand entered my vision and settled over my own, squeezing reassuringly. I looked up to see him leaning closer to me. 

“Now it is my turn to apologize,” he said quietly, and I saw sincerity in his eyes. “I do not wish to bring up painful memories, I am simply curious.” 

My heart rate quickened slightly. This kind, gentle Thranduil was so different than the arrogant king I had come to know, and it was...it was honestly extremely attractive. I stuttered something along the lines of “Thank you” but it probably sounded more like jumbled mush. He smiled for the third time that night, and then turned to the rest of the court. His eyes roved over the faces gathered around the table for the night, as if to make sure that everyone was there. Then, with a wave of his free hand, he motioned for the servants to begin setting out the food. His other hand did not leave mine. 

The elven lady next to me cough politely as I gingerly extricated one of my hands from his grasp and very carefully spooned some sort of vegetable onto my plate. I paused and looked at her. She smiled tightly and said, “Who might you be?” 

I mirrored her smile and said just as icily, “My name is Lady Nyla of the Dunedain. And who are you?” 

The smile vanished from her slanted features and she glared at me. “I am Morgynith Undomiel, lady of Rivendell. I believe that you are in my seat.” 

“I believe the King gave your seat to me,” I replied. “Surely if you feel that strongly about it, you could take it up with him?” Her jaw clenched. 

“Enjoy it while it lasts, Ranger,” she hissed. “He will get bored of you eventually.” 

“I assume you speak from past experience?” I said evenly. 

“Lady Undomiel,” Thranduil spoke from the other side of me. She plastered a smile on her face and bowed her head in acknowledgment of him. 

“My King,” she simpered. 

“I believe that there is a seat beside Tarith of Imladris,” he said. “Perhaps you would be good enough to keep him company?” 

Her face went white. She didn’t move for a moment, and Thranduil added in a dangerously low voice, “That wasn’t a request, my lady.” She stood abruptly and curtsied stiffly, before walking all the way to the other end of the table and sitting down haughtily next to a rather peaked looking elf with extremely pointy features. 

He didn’t speak for the rest of the meal, although his hand never left mine. When the last dish was served and no one was continuing to eat, he stood. I thought to let go of him, but instead he pulled me up after him and bowed to the rest of the court. Following his lead, I curtsied. 

“I must say good night,” he said. And without another word, he tucked my hand under his arm and lead me out of the dining hall. 

 


	4. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thranduil reveals his true colors, and Nyla relives the death of her parents.

“Since you haven’t been outside in the gardens yet, perhaps you would be willing to enjoy them with me tonight?” Thranduil murmured in my ear as he led me through the halls of his palace. I could only nod; his voice sent shivers skittering across my nerves. He stopped at a small alcove decorated with carved flower vines and glass tiles. Putting out a hand, he brushed the top of one of the flowers. A soft thump, and the wall parted, allowing a wave of sweet spring air to rush over us.

The garden was beautiful; rare flowers grew haphazardly along the marble walls, as if the gardener simply allowed them to wander about freely. The lush green grass was thick, and I briefly wondered if it would feel like a mattress if I attempted to lay on it. In the center of the garden stood a small jeweled fountain. Water arched gracefully from the top of a fountain, pattering playfully into the basin.

“Wow,” I murmured. Thranduil grinned.

“My private garden,” he said. “I don’t come here enough. There is too much to do in a day for me.” He allowed his eyes to wander over me; I noticed they lingered briefly over the scars on my shoulders and arms, much like Galeth’s had. I turned away, pretending to be interested in a purple throated trumpet flower shaped like a daffodil.

“Where did all of these plants come from?” I asked.

“My late wife was talented in the art of growing things,” he said with an intensity that told me he knew I was avoiding his unasked question. “She created each species of flower you see here.”

My eyes were drawn to a lily-like plant near the chattering fountain. I moved towards it, Thranduil easily keeping pace. It was shaped like a stargazing lily, with blooms bigger than my hand. But instead of being a vivid pink, the throat was a deep black that faded out along the petals to a light blue. Each petal was outlined in white, and spots of white dotted them like stars.

“This is beautiful,” I whispered in awe, reaching out a hand to touch it. I hesitated,though, unsure if I would harm the flower.

Thranduil reached around me and plucked a bloom off before gently handing it to me.

“These are the only flowers here that she didn’t create,” he murmured. “Nightwanderer lilies, she called them. They come from a place far across the sea near the Undying lands. The seeds have been passed down in her family for centuries. She planted hers here.” He watched me admire the flower for a moment. Then he asked quietly, “Nyla, why are you here?”

“I was hunting spiders, You Majesty,” I said nonchalantly, dragging a fingertip over the velvety soft flesh of the flower.

“The Dunedain do not often wander this far from their lands,” he said sternly. “There must be a better reason.”

“I have none,” I said, looking up to meet his mesmerizing stare. “I am not Dunedain, remember. I am...a little more hotblooded than most. I set myself to hunt the spiders down and destroy them.”

“That is hardly a quest for a young woman such as yourself,” he scoffed. I stiffened, seeing the arrogant king I had come to know breaking through. Seeing my discontent, he took a breath and said in a kinder voice, “You are sure there is no other reason for you being here?”

“Your Majesty, I would hardly lie to you,” I said coldly. “If this is all you wished to discuss, then I will request that our conversation be terminated so that I may return to my chambers.”

“No, no,” he said hastily. “I am sorry, my lady, I meant no offense.” He studied me for a brief second. “I am simply curious as to why you are here. It is most unusual to meet a Dunedain, especially one so...fair as you.”

I blinked at his compliment.

“I...appreciate your words,” I whispered. “However, I have no ulterior motives.”

“Then I shall content myself with your answer.” He smiled and drew me close again, pulling me after him as he walked towards the fountain.

Upon closer inspection, my stomach flipped over and began to burn. The fountainhead was carved in the likeness of a dragon with a sword driven through its belly; the wings were splayed open and the dragon writhed in a spiral around the ornately gilded sword. I gulped down a wave of nausea and simply stared.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he murmured. I didn’t answer. My mind was thrust backwards in time to a long repressed memory.

_“Nyla, run!” My father’s hands pushed me roughly out the back door of our small hut. I turned, expecting to see my mother follow, but instead she was shrugging off her dress, revealing an enormous dragon tattoo that took up her entire back. Its head began at the base of her neck, its wings stretched over her shoulders and down her arms, and the tail ran over her left hip to curl down almost to her knee. I stared in shock._

_“Vaharalyh!” My father gasped, reaching out to grasp her arm. “It is you they are here for! You must run!”_

_“Take Nyla and go,” my mother commanded quietly. There was a fire in her eyes that was foreign to me. “She will need your guidance, Eothen.”_

_“She carries your blood,” he argued, drawing her closer to him. “You can watch after her better than I. Please, go. I will hold them.”_

_“Mama?” I whispered. She looked at me, and sadness passed over her fair features. Even when I was a young girl, I had noted her exceptional beauty. My father snatched his bow from over the door and pulled several arrows out of the quiver, sticking three of them nocking up in his boot, and laying a fourth on the string._

_“Nyla,” my mother murmured, coming forward and dropping to her knees. She grasped my hands gently. “You are going to have to be very, very brave. Mama...Mama can’t come with you.” She glanced over her shoulder at my father, who was waiting at the door. The distant drumming of hooves finally reached my ears. She turned back to me, tears in her eyes. “I haven’t told you the truth, my love, and for that I am so sorry...I wish we had more time.” She smiled shakily and caressed my hair. Her green eyes flashed purple and blue in the light, and a tear trailed down her cheek. “I need you to listen to me very carefully, alright, my little warrior? It is so important that you do.”_

_“Mama,” I said, my own tears flowing freely. “I don’t understand.”_

_“Hush,” she murmured. “I need you to remember this.”_

_Behind her, my father’s bow sang. He nocked another arrow and fired again. My mother took my face in both of her hands and forced me to focus on her._

_“Nyla, you are Dragonborn. You are the daughter of Vaharalyh, the last remaining free dragon in Middle Earth. One day….” she faltered, her throat working._

_“Mama…” I whispered. She shook her head._

_“One day, you will find it in your heart to forgive me, my little warrior. But carrying my blood will make your life so difficult...you cannot trust anyone. Do you understand me? Do not trust this secret with anyone except Gandalf.” She gazed fiercely into my eyes. Another arrow left my father’s string. “Promise me, Nyla. Promise me that you will keep this secret safe.”_

_“I don’t understand,” I whined._

_“Nyla! Promise!” she snapped, shaking me slightly. The panic in her eyes frightened me, and I nodded, sobbing harder. Quickly she gathered me against her into a crushing hug._

_“Be brave, my love,” she whispered. And then she was shoving me away. “Now run!” she hissed. A cry of pain, and I saw my father topple from the doorway, arrow sticking out of his shoulder._

_“Go!” my mother screamed. Her words spurred me on; I turned and ran as fast as I could through the grass of the Riddermark, struggling to keep my balance. A huge rock formation loomed out of the ground. I scrambled behind it and peeked around it at my childhood home._

_A whole host of men dressed in shining silver armor surrounded the hut. They were patiently waiting for something, although for what I did not know._

_Suddenly, the walls of the house burst apart, and an enormous dragon erupted into the sky, scales flashing green and purple and blue in the sun. It screeched and opened its maw, spitting fire at the horsemen. There were faint screams of pain, and a few horses broke free to flee for the forest, manes and tails on fire. Again, the dragon screeched, whipping its tail back and forth._

_Spears arched through the air, but they only served to make the dragon angrier. More men were roasted in their armor by dragonfyre._

_Another company of horses appeared. The dragon swung its head to analyze the new situation, batting away arrows and spears that were still being flung at it. There was a cart of some kind with the newcomers, and it carried a huge metallic machine that was similar to a crossbow. The dragon climbed higher into the sky, hovering above the party of horsemen. Then, with a defiant roar, it dove towards them, mouth open wide in preparation to spit fire._

_With a loud_ BOOM _the machine fired. An enormous harpoon with jagged edges struck the dragon in the chest, slicing through the armor like it was butter. The weight of it immediately dragged the dragon back down to earth with an ear-splitting howl of pain. The men gathered around and began hacking with their swords, causing more shrieks that became fainter and fainter until the only sound left was metallic ringing against hard scales._

_A hearty cheer rose from what was left of the horsemen. Singing loudly, they attached ropes to the dragon’s body and began towing it behind their horses, their prize staining the grass around it red._

“My lady?” Thranduil asked. I jumped a little, returning to myself, and saw his face was etched with concern. “Are you well?”

“Your Majesty, I would like to return to my chambers,” I said quietly. The pain in my voice was evident. He smiled sadly.

“You are not the only one to bear scars from monsters,” he said gently, reaching out to brush the scars on my skin. I narrowed my eyes at him and took a step back. He gave me a tender smile. “My lady, you have nothing to fear. You are safe from dragons here. They will not harm you again.” He reached out and took my shoulders, drawing me against his chest so he could press a kiss to my forehead. I pushed him away, blood boiling.

“I must request this conversation to be ended,” I said coldly. He shook his head.

“Nyla, it is better to speak of it than for it to be held inside,” he murmured. “I too have been scarred by those...vile creatures.” He turned his face so I could see his left cheekbone, and muttered a few words under his breath. The perfect flesh melted away to show a hideous puckered red scar that stretched from the top of his eyebrow all the way down to his jaw; I could see his teeth through a hole in his cheek. The most jarring piece of it all was his eye; it was milky white, unseeing and blind. I tried to hold in a gasp, but it escaped my lips. He gritted his teeth and turned away.

“There is a reason that dragons should be extinct,” he growled. When he faced my again, his visage was again flawless. “They care for nothing but their own greed and vanity. They kill indiscriminately, they torch entire cities just to bath in the flames of the dying, and they delight in the pain of other races.” He gazed into my eyes, fire burning in them. I was reminded of the fire in my mother’s eyes, and I saw no difference. “I will be happy when the last one dies,” he spat. My mother’s dying screams echoed in my ears, and my face flushed.

“And now I must take my leave, Your Majesty,” I said coldly. 

I turned to go, but a strong hand caught my arm, fingers tight enough to leave bruises. He dragged me backwards so that my back was pressed against his chest. 

“I have not said that you can leave,” he hissed. He spun me around and leaned over me until his face was inches from mine. “I am trying to help you, my lady, and yet you continue to defy me.”

“Let me go,” I said quietly. I could feel fire beginning to creep through my veins, and struggled to keep myself calm. 

“Is it because of the dragons that your parents are dead?” he spat. “Is because of them that you bear these scars?” He dragged his fingers across my skin as if to illustrate his point. “Answer me,” he barked. 

“I will not tell you again. Let me go.” I glared up at him. 

“Not until you tell me who you are, and why you are here,” he growled. He shook me. “I know that you are here for more than just the spiders. What are you, some form of punishment for whatever sin the world thinks I have committed?” His eyes blazed with a frenzy that was terrifying. “Or a spy, come to find a weakness in the chink of my armor?” His grip on my arms grew tighter. “Any one of my enemies would know that sending someone so scarred and broken from dragonlust would creep their way into my heart.” 

The bruising strength of his fingers broke through my calm, and I gritted my teeth. I writhed in his hands, breaking his grip on me, and as soon as I was free, I pulled my hand back and slapped him as hard as I could across the face. He stumbled back from the force of it. 

“How dare you!” I snarled. “How dare you pry into my past! And how dare you lie to me! I have been nothing but honest with you, and you repay me by continuing to be suspicious of my motivations!” I clenched my fists angrily and added, “Your heart is poisoned by your anger, and it taints everything you do. I see your heart now, King Thranduil, and it is loathsome.” 

With that, I turned and stalked away, intent on never allowing him near me again. 

 

 


	5. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thranduil asks for forgiveness and Nyla surprises herself

A knock came at my door. The soft rapping had become increasingly familiar over the last three days; the King had yet to leave me alone for more than three hours at a time. I rolled my eyes. 

“I will continue to refuse you,” I called out so he could hear me. “Do not think you can pester me into admitting you.” I turned my back and began to rummage through my saddlebags, making sure that everything was packed and ready to go. 

I heard the click of the lock flipping open, and spun to see Thranduil enter, his blue eyes storming slightly. I lifted my chin defiantly and squared my shoulders. 

“I have been patient with you, my lady,” he murmured. “But I must now admit myself aggravated.” He strode forward until he was almost chest to chest with me, broad shoulders easily overshadowing my smaller frame. I stood my ground. 

“Perhaps if the King was more concerned in his kingdom and less concerned with the doings of a Dunedain Ranger, he would be less aggravated,” I said flippantly. He glared at me, eyes impressively shooting sparks. If I were anyone less than Dragonborn, perhaps I might have been cowed into submission. Instead, I calmly held his gaze, refusing to allow him to unsettle me. 

“You are here because you trespassed into my land,” he growled. “Do not think for one moment that I won’t throw you into the dungeons.”

“As if your dungeons could hold me,” I replied with a hint of challenge. “Do not forget, I am the one who single-handedly destroyed a nest of spiders from Dol Guldur. You would do well to remember I can leave when I desire.” 

“Then why don’t you?” he snapped. I gestured towards my gear, already prepared. 

“The exact question I was asking myself,” I said. He blinked, caught off guard. I tilted my head, and added, “You didn’t think I would actually leave?” Something akin to panic flashed across his face, and I frowned. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he did so. Silence reigned for a few moments. Then…

“Please do not leave,” he murmured. His tone of voice was in sharp contrast to what it had been before. Pleading, meek, and slightly hopeless. 

“And why does the Elvenking request such a thing of me?” I asked with a little less of an edge. He refused to meet my eyes. 

“I did not...did not act as I should have,” he whispered. “I am ashamed of what I said, it was not warranted. And I hurt you.” I shifted slightly, hands coming up to brush against the bruises on my arms his fingers had left. He flinched a little. 

“Yes, you did,” I said. “Not only that, but you called into question my honor.” 

“I have no excuse for what I said,” he murmured, looking up. I noted with surprise that his eyes were wet with tears.  “I only beg your forgiveness and ask that you remain here a little while longer.” 

“What, so you can make sure I’m not a spy?” I asked sharply. He frowned and shook his head. 

“No,” he said. “You were right. My anger has poisoned me, to the point that everything else has become meaningless. Just the mere thought…” he paused and took a deep breath in an effort to control himself. “Please help me become better, Nyla.” 

I felt a hint of shock; this was the first time he had called me by my first name and nothing else. I tilted my head and asked suspiciously, “And why am I, of all people, supposed to help you?” 

He chuckled quietly with a small smile gracing his lips. 

“You are the one person who is not afraid of me, and whom I can trust to tell me exactly what you feel.” The smile on his lips grew more pronounced and he added, “I’ve never had anyone slap me before, by the way. You are incredibly brave.” 

I narrowed my eyes. 

“I will never allow anyone to push me around,” I said quietly. “How long would you have me stay?” 

A glimmer of hope appeared in his face. He looked down at the floor as if contemplating how long he would require my services. I wrinkled my nose at that thought. 

Eventually, he murmured, “My lady has already stated that she can leave when she wishes. My request is that she stay as long as she desires, with the understanding that I will ask for her help.” I thought about it for a moment, wondering if I could really help him. 

The thought of the enormous library and the soft bed just behind me crowded into my mind, and I groaned internally. Would it hurt to stay, just a little while? 

“Very well,” I found myself saying. “I will stay. On one condition: I have free reign of the kingdom. I may go where I wish, do as I please, and leave when I choose.” 

Thranduil considered, and then nodded gracefully. 

“We have already established the last one,” he said, “but yes. As long as you are a guest here, you will have no one to encroach upon your freedom.” There was a light in his eyes now, and his face seemed more relaxed than it was when he had come in. I hadn’t noticed lines on his face until they disappeared. 

“Then, Your Majesty, I believe we have an agreement,” I murmured. And for just a split second, my heart stuttered at his answering smile. 

 


	6. The Red Orcs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyla continues to be a badass, and Thranduil starts caring.

I gripped the hilt of my sword tightly, the slightly electric scent of twisted magic making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I swept the ground with my eyes, searching for a hint of the elvish party that had been sent out two days ago. Since they were elves, they were slightly harder to track then normal soldiers, and I had to be careful not to miss anything. 

A rush of wind gave me a faceful of musty iron spider scent, and I wrinkled my nose. If those idiots had gotten caught in spiderwebs, I was going to be extremely upset. With all the training I had given them the past three months, they should know better than to be surprised. But the spiders weren’t the thing that had my nerves on edge. This was a new scent that I had never come across before in Mirkwood; in fact, as far as I could remember, I had only ever caught a whiff of it in the south, past Gondor. 

I heard quiet grunting a few meters ahead and drew to a stop. The air was still, the trees holding their breath as they watched. A guttural bark followed by mangled words in the Black Language struck my ears, and I immediately drew my sword. Creeping forward, I carefully hid myself behind a particularly large bush and parted the branches slightly with my hand. 

Fifteen tall Red Orcs were busily moving about a small clearing. Two them were chortling to themselves in the Black Language as they stood guard over several elven soldiers. I recognized the party immediately as the seven soldiers Thranduil had sent out to clear the woods around his halls of spiders. I counted them; all were accounted for, though two of them were unconscious. All of them were covered in blood, and sporting wounds of various sizes. 

Tuning my hearing, I managed to hear, “She will pay us well, for these morsels of sweet flesh” and the reply of “Not enough, I’d wager”. I wrinkled my nose in disgust; poachers, this far to the east? Not even the creatures of Dol Guldur would consider hunting the Eldar. 

Suddenly, one of the others stood up straight. 

“Fireblood,” he hissed. 

“You’re smelling things again, Sur-ukhai,” another growled, annoyed. 

“I’m the one that found these, I’m telling you there’s something else out there!” the one named Sur-ukhai snarled. He pointed in the direction of the bush I hid behind. “It’s coming from over there.” 

“She might pay us more, if we bring her something even better,” another one whined hopefully. 

“Enough!” the annoyed one barked. “I smell nothing.” 

“That’s why you’re not the hunter,” Sur-ukhai taunted, and began making his way towards me, his eyes burning coals in the dim lighting of the trees. I took a deep breath, and then stood to my full height, walking around the bush to appear nonchalantly in front of the orcs. 

“Good day, boys,” I growled in their language. The surprise of seeing the Black tongue rolling from the mouth of a Dunedain spread across their faces. I gestured to the soldiers. “I do believe that those are mine. Shall we call this a draw, and you can just hand them over?” 

“Who are you?” Sur-ukahi hissed, edging closer to me. I raised my sword in warning. 

“No one to be trifled with,” I answered. “So why don’t you just let them go?” 

“Why should we?” one of them scoffed. “You are nothing more than a human girl.” 

“If you leave now, I may let you live,” I said quietly. “But if you choose to fight me, I will not show mercy.” I shrugged. “You can ask the fifteen spiders from Dol Guldur whether or not you have a prayer at winning against me.” 

“We saw the slaughter,” Sur-ukhai growled, his eyes turning to focus on my sword. “I do not believe that a mere human like you could destroy an entire nest. You must have had help.” He gave me a blood encrusted grin and added, “And you are by yourself now. You are not a threat to us.” 

“I am the killing storm,” I replied evenly. “I will destroy you. Now, let them go.” My words grabbed their attention. Sur-ukhai bared his teeth and growled low in his throat. 

“The killing storm is a black magician with fire for hair and ice for eyes,” he snarled. “He tears apart all that he sees before him without pity.” He looked me up and down. “You do not fit this description.” 

“Then allow me to demonstrate,” I said. I gestured with my sword at one of the smaller orcs. “You. Come here.” 

“I have had enough of this,” Sur-ukhai snapped. He grasped a club that was hanging at his side and began moving towards me, eyes glinting in the twilight. With a shout, he charged. I easily sidestepped his clumsy swing and then spun to hack his head from his shoulders in one swift chop from my sword. His body fell to the ground with a thud; his head rolled for a few feet before coming to a stop; his lifeless eyes stared in surprise at his fate. I turned to the rest of the orcs. 

“Well?” I said. “Do you want to die? Or will you release my prey?” 

They hesitated. Then with various war cries, they charged me. 

 

**************************

 

“Nyla!” Thranduil was immediately by my side the moment I walked through the kingdom's gates. I gave him a wry smile and gestured to the small party of scouts that staggered behind me. 

“I found them, just as you wished,” I said. His blue eyes were wide with concern and a slight sliver of fear. 

“I was worried about you,” he murmured. “You’ve been gone for days…” 

“Have you no confidence in my ability to keep myself out of trouble?” I teased. My answer did nothing to help ease the lines in his face as he frowned. He drew breath to say something else, but I cut him off. “Some of your men are wounded, and they require medical attention.” 

“You are hurt as well,” he said quietly. I stared at him, and then glanced down at myself. I was so covered in blood that I couldn’t discern if any of it was mine. He reached out and gently pressed his fingers to my chest. Pain lanced out from his touch, and I hissed. I had been so wrapped up in my victory that I had failed to see the enormous gash that stretched across my collarbones. 

Thranduil’s brows knitted together and he took my arm, leading me away from the rest of the party. 

“See to it that they are tended to,” he ordered over his shoulder to the guards at the gate. 

“Thranduil--,” I began to protest as he swept me along. 

“Don’t you start,” he growled, tightening his grip on me. I grumbled but didn’t complain further. 

In the months that I had been in Mirkwood, Thranduil and I had settled into a fragile but comfortable trust of each other. Fragile because I was always on high alert, ready to leave at a moment’s notice. Comfortable because I was finding that beneath the arrogant and cold demeanor, Thranduil was beginning to grow on me. He had a dry sense of humor that seemed to peek out at all of the right (or wrong, depending on your point of view) times, and a quick wit that was refreshing. The most surprising thing of all, though, was that he was true to his word; each time we argued and I called him out on being cold hearted or boorish, I saw him struggle to change his attitude almost immediately. I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about this, but it was good to see his cold demeanor soften slightly. 

We walked for a few moments, and then suddenly the outlines of everything began to smear together. I took a deep breath and tried to focus my eyes, not wanting to alarm Thranduil anymore than he already was. It was only when the lights were began to dim my legs wouldn’t follow my orders that I attempted to say something to him. My words came out as slurred mush. Thranduil turned to me, eyes narrowed slightly as he took me in. I tried again, with even less success. His face darkened and he hissed a curse under his breath. Slowing only for a second, he placed an arm under my shoulders and pulled me into his arms, carrying me bridal style. I made a small sound of protest that sounded pathetic even to my failing ears. 

I was barely aware of my surroundings by the time he laid me down on a soft, comfortable surface. I could have imagined soft fingers brush the hair away from my face, or the feather light kiss that was hesitantly pressed to my forehead. The last thing I truly remember was the sting of my wound being cleaned by gentle hands, and Thranduil’s voice whispering comfortingly to me as I finally slid into unconsciousness.

 


	7. Blushes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyla has visions, and Thranduil reveals the effect she is having on him.

_ “You’ve never told me about your mother.” Steinarr glanced sideways at me as he smoked his pipe. I shrugged but said nothing, content to look up at the stars that winked at me from above our campsite. He shifted a little and added, “And your scars. You wear them proudly but you never say where they come from.”  _

__ _ “Why should I tell you?” I replied evenly. Steinarr turned to face me and scowled.  _

__ _ “Because I adopted you when you were just a little girl, running scared through the Riddermark,” he said sternly.  _

__ _ “My mother’s last words were to never trust anyone,” I murmured.  _

__ _ “Not even the man you raised you?” Steinarr cajoled gently. I looked up into his weatherbeaten face, seeing his wide brown eyes glistening slightly.  _

__ _ “I can’t,” I whispered. He smiled sadly and put an arm around me to pull me closer to him.  _

__ _ “Oh, Nyla,” he said. “No matter what happens, I will always be your ada.” He pressed a kiss into my hair, and I wrapped my arms around his waist, hugging him tightly.  _

__ _ Suddenly he vanished into smoke, and I had to throw my hands out to prevent myself from landing flat on my face. The air around me grew heavy, the light dimming until I could barely see. I swallowed and sat upright, gripping the sword at my side. A threatening chuckle reverberated through my skull.  _

__ _ “The lonely daughter of dragons,” a harsh voice snarled out. The words snaked around me, echoing slightly. I drew my sword and held it up in front of me.  _

__ _ “I am the daughter of Vaharalyh,” I said coldly. “Whoever you are, you will leave me in peace or else feel the wrath of the killing storm.”  _

__ _ “I am fire,” the voice chuckled. “I am death. Who are you to think you can defeat me, when you are but a spark to the ancient pyre of my glory?” A huge golden eye appeared in front of me, pupil dilating slightly as it focused on me. I widened my stance and tightened my grip on my sword.  _

__ _ “A spark may become a mighty blaze,” I said calmly, though even my bones were shaking under the intensity of the dragon’s gaze. “Leave me be, or I call down the wrath of my mother’s blood upon you.”  _

__ _ “You are not fullborn,” the dragon growled. “You have none of her power. You will die easily before me.” He drew in a deep breath, and through the darkness I saw the scales in his chest and neck become outlined by dragonfyre. For a moment, everything was absolutely still. Then he opened his mouth-- _

 

“No!” My eyes shot open and I stared at the ornate ceiling I was laying under for a moment uncomprehendingly. The beams of the roof were carved to look like the undercanopy of a tree, with small leaves and lifelike birds tenderly wrought in the wood. Sunlight streamed in from several windows set cleverly between beams to make it look like gaps in the tree branches, chasing away whatever darkness lingered from my dream. 

Carefully I sat up, glancing around to take in the rest of the room. A simple mirror hung on the opposite wall beside a tall wooden wardrobe and another door that was slightly ajar. More windows allowed light in, and an open archway revealed a balcony overlooking the garden Thranduil had shown me months ago. The walls were carved with forest scenes, everything so lifelike that I couldn’t help but to admire the craftsmanship. 

I looked down at myself, flexing muscles to ascertain if there was any permanent damage. There was a dull ache in my chest wound, but otherwise I was unscathed. I slid out from under the covers of the bed and swung my feet down to touch the floor. I realized then that I was wearing the oversized blue tunic that I often wore to bed. I narrowed my eyes; how the hell had I gotten into it? How long was I asleep?

Quietly I stood and walked to the door, curiously pushing it farther open to reveal a brightly lit study. Thranduil sat at a beautiful redwood desk, carefully studying a piece of parchment in front of him. He held a charcoal stick in his left hand, the fingertips on his right hand a smudgy black. I leaned against the doorframe and watched him for a few moments; it was rare to see him so intent on something other than the affairs of the kingdom. He frowned and made a few lines on the parchment, muttering under his breath. I smiled and made my way over to his side, peeking over his shoulder. 

“What are you drawing?” I asked. 

“Mirkwood” was the quiet reply. And indeed, it was, although it wasn’t the Mirkwood I had come to know; the shadows seemed sharper, the trees fuller and more graceful, and there was more sunlight dappling the ground. I tilted my head to the side, curious. 

“Are you drawing this from memory?” I murmured, studying what I could see was the beginnings of the gateway into Thranduil’s kingdom. He chuckled. 

“Some of it is memory,” he said. “The rest of it is is foolish imagination. A wish for what might be.” 

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered truthfully. “Perhaps one day…”

“Perhaps.” He put down the charcoal stick and turned to look at me. The lines around his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “You’re awake.” He reached up to take my one of my hands in his. “I’ve been worried about you, my Lady. I wasn’t sure when you would awaken…” he trailed off when I raised an eyebrow at him. “Is something wrong?” 

“Would you care to explain this?” I said, gesturing at the tunic I was in. To my surprise, Thranduil blushed a deep shade of crimson. 

“You were asleep for a while,” he said, bravely keeping my gaze. “I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable…” Suddenly his eyes dropped to the floor and he mumbled, “You were already having nightmares. It seemed like the kind thing to do.” He squeezed my fingers, thumb running over the top of my knuckles. My tongue tangled up in my mouth, almost knotting itself into speechlessness. 

“I…” I stuttered. He looked up, and a smile lifted the corner of his pale mouth. 

“What?” he said quietly. “Afraid the stone-hearted king would take advantage of you in your helpless condition?” I shook my head vigorously. 

“No,” I managed to say, “I...thank you. That was very...thoughtful of you.” The smile spread farther across his face. 

“I’m glad I did something right,” he murmured. “It feels good, learning how to be a decent being again.” He pulled my hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to my skin. “You’re dispelling the darkness within me, and I have never been more grateful for it.” 

“Ever have you been smooth with your words, Thranduil,” I whispered, trying to dispel the unfamiliar warmth that was beginning to creep through my chest and down into the pit of my stomach. He frowned. 

“You think I’m lying to you?” he asked, sounding hurt. His tone made me laugh a little. 

“A petulant child you may be, my King, but a liar I would not believe you to be capable of becoming,” I quipped. I squeezed his hand, and he relaxed when he realized I was joking. 

“What does that make you, then?” he said with a smirk. “My school teacher?” 

“Your nanny would be more accurate,” I shot at him. “Always being around to clean up your social messes, making sure you don’t insult anybody and intervening when you get yourself in trouble, all without the gratification of being able to swat you on the head without being thrown in the dungeon.” 

“Oh?” An elegant eyebrow raised in mock surprise. “And has my lady been tempted to swat me over the head?” 

“Now you’re just trying to get me to say something treasonous so you can throw me in the dungeons.” I pulled my hand from his and lifted my hands above my head, stretching luxuriously. A sudden flare of firey pain made me hiss and press against the wound on my chest. Immediately Thranduil stood, wrapping an arm around me and caressing my cheek with the other hand. 

“Don’t overexert yourself,” he murmured, tenderness in his eyes. The sight of his normally sharp, icy blue eyes melting into soft ocean waves made my heart thump just a little faster, and my brain lost track of time for the moment. Apparently, the lack of an immediate tongue-in-cheek response did little to satisfy the King that I was well enough to leave because he scooped me into his arms and began walking back into the bedroom. 

“No, wait,” I protested. He laid me on the bed and placed a slender finger over my lips to silence me. 

“You risked your life for my soldiers, and you brought them home. You took care of them. Now please, Nyla, allow me to take care of you.” He hummed slightly as he brushed my hair out of my face, a peaceful smile playing on his mouth. Then with a wink, he straightened up and turned to walk away. 

“Thranduil,” I said quietly. 

“Mhhm?” 

“How did I get into this tunic?” 

For once, his immediate response was silence. And then, mumbling so low I could barely make out his words, he said, “I am over one thousand years old. I have the self-control to not look while I change you.” The tips of his ears went cherry red, and he swept out of the room without so much as a backward glance at me. 

 


	8. Dragonborn Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smaug haunts Nyla's dreams again, and Thranduil does some confessing.

After staring at the ceiling of what I finally gathered to be Thranduil’s chambers, I found myself slipping off to sleep in the gentle embrace of his warm bed. I didn’t even bother to fight my drooping eyes, trusting that he would watch out for me. 

_ “Nyla,”  _ a deep growling voice suddenly whispered. I sat up, clutching the blankets to my chest. 

“Who’s there?” I asked quietly, my hands trembling slightly. A dark chuckle and then a snap of huge jaws. 

“ _ Have you already forgotten me, weakling?”  _ he growled.  _ “I cannot decide if it is your pitiful memory or your blatant rudeness that struck my image from your mind.”  _  A huge shadow spilled across the doorway leading to the balcony, followed by a puff of black smoke.  _ “Even here, I follow you. From the land of the dreaming to the land of the waking. Take heart that I have decided not to kill you yet.”  _

“Oh yes,” I murmured, gripping the blankets so hard my knuckles went white. “I remember now. Fire and death, was it? Such a drab name. Haven’t you a better imagination? Any human child could have come up with that.” 

An angry roar shook the palace, and one wickedly curved claw struck at me through the doorway, leaving a gash in the floor. 

“ _ You dare to mock me, half-blood?”  _ he howled.  _ “I, who took the entirety of the Lonely Mountain from the dwarves and wrenched away their gold, who stared down the great Elvenking of Mirkwood and gave him a hideous scar, who has never suffered defeat?”  _ His rage shook the room, freeing dust flurries from the ceiling. 

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood. With careful movements, I walked to the doorway and stepped out to face the huge red dragon. He tilted his head so he could get a good look at me with one enormous golden eye. 

“I am not afraid of you,” I said quietly. “I realize that there are worse monsters in the world.” He huffed, a growl rumbling in his throat. I kept my face stone still, blank and unemotional. “As for following me to the land of the waking, I know that this is just a dream. You would not have made it this far over Mirkwood without being spotted by guards.” I leaned closer to him, my nose almost brushing his scales as I stared at him. “The Elvenking is watching over me. I would be very afraid if I were you. If the two of us were to come after you….” I turned and walked away, leaving the threat hanging in the air before him. 

He roared angrily and opened his jaws, dragonfyre building up in his throat. I dropped to the ground, hands over my face as the raging inferno began to spread between his teeth--

 

“Nyla!” I was suddenly aware of a strong hand shaking me awake. My eyes snapped open, breath catching in my chest for a moment as my heart raced. All of my instincts were still screaming danger. 

A well-muscled arm draped over me and dragged me backward, cradling me against a warm, solid chest. A soft sigh tickled my ears, and then Thranduil whispered, “My lady. Are you alright? You were dreaming again.” 

My heart was pounding again. I took a few breaths and then managed to say shakily, “I dreamt about the same dragon.” He hugged me closer to him and pressed his lips to the skin behind my ear. 

“The dragon that gave you your scars?” he asked. I shook my head, shaking under his touch. “Then which dragon are you talking about? You haven’t told me of any you’ve fought before.” 

“No, I--” I caught my breath as he trailed kisses down my neck and across my shoulder, allowing his tongue to gently caress my skin. I felt him smile, and then he returned to my ear. 

“I’m sorry, Nyla,” he murmured, amused. “Please continue. I will try not to distract you.” 

“I…” My tongue was suddenly lead in my mouth. He waited patiently, tightening his grip on me and pressing small kisses around my ear and down my jaw. My fingers dug in slightly to his arm as he continued moving down my neck to the slope of my breast, kissing and nipping at my skin. Again, I felt him smile, and he returned. 

“Too distracting,” he chuckled. 

“Thranduil,” I whispered, unable to think clearly enough to say anything else. 

“Nyla,” he replied quietly, nuzzling the back of my neck. After placing a few kisses on my shoulders and down my spine, he rolled me over in his arms so that I was facing him. 

The lines on his face were relaxed, his blue eyes warm and gentle. A smile graced his lips, and his white blonde hair was splayed out around his bare shoulders. Somewhere in the back of my mind, the more human side of me made note of how wide and muscular his chest was. She licked her lips and tried hard not to drool as he cupped my check with slender fingers. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, stroking my cheekbone with his thumb. “Do I need to call one of the nurses?” 

The thought of him leaving prodded at my mind, and I shook my head vigorously. 

“Stay,” I heard myself say without thinking. He smiled widely. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. He rolled onto his stomach, resting his weight on his arms so that he was hovering over me; a lock of his hair brushed my cheek. “Not unless you order me away, my lady.” 

“I…” The depths of his eyes caught my attention, and I couldn’t finish my sentence. He gazed earnestly back at me. Then, still holding my gaze, he lowered himself until our noses were almost touching. 

“Say the word, and I will leave,” he whispered. “One word is all it would take. But right now, Nyla…” he took a deep breath, taking in my scent, and let it out with a growl that made my core muscles tighten in pleasure. “Right now, Nyla, I could not tear myself away from you willingly if I tried.” He tilted his face to the side and leaned closer, our lips barely touching. “It’s your decision,” he said quietly. 

There was no coherent thought in my mind. Perhaps I was still delirious from my dream, or the charismatic charm he used on other people finally began working on me. Whatever the case, I did not hesitate as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss him. 

I know that in most romantic stories, those who are intimate with each other often describe how it tasted to finally taste the one that they love. I could not tell you what Thranduil tasted like; I was too wrapped up in the sensation of having almost the entirety of his weight pushing me into his bed, skin warm and soft against mine, muscles rippling underneath my hands. All other senses were drowned out, my brain narrowing down to tunnel focus on how he  _ felt _ . 

His lips played across my shoulders and neck, his fingers fumbling for the laces on the tunic I was wearing. The only moment he broke away was to pull my tunic over my head, and as soon as he had thrown it off of the bed, he was attacking my collarbone with teasing teeth. His hands roved over me, tracing each curve of my body. 

“Thranduil…” I whispered quietly, unable to formulate much more of a coherent thought than his name. 

“Nyla,” he growled into the crook of my neck. The heat in his voice set my heartbeat racing even faster than it already was, and I couldn’t stop a small breathy moan from escaping my mouth. He growled even louder, the sound vibrating through his chest, and sank his teeth into my skin. 

A sudden knock at the door made the two of us freeze, and then a tall elven woman dressed in a beribboned gown burst through. 

“Thranduil!” she cried out. “They told me you were hiding in here--” She stopped dead when she saw him hovering over me in the bed. He immediately shifted so that he was covering me, preserving my modesty. I felt my cheeks burn red with shame. 

“It’s proper protocol to knock before bursting in,” he said icily. “Can I help you?”  

“I did knock,” she snapped. “Who the hell is she supposed to be?” Her hazel eyes bore into mine, and she raised an eyebrow. “Cavorting about with human whores? I thought that was below you, Thranduil.” 

“You will either tell me what you want, or you will get out,” he growled. “And if you insult her again, I swear I will throw you out of my kingdom myself. 

“Thranduil,” I murmured, burying my face in his shoulder. He turned his head to kiss my temple, humming quietly. 

“Shhh,” he whispered. 

“Thranduil,” the elven woman snarled, “I believe you owe me a proper greeting! Send...her...away, so that I might speak to you.” 

Thranduil sighed and pushed away from me to look into my eyes. 

“I don’t think she’s going to leave us alone,” he muttered, his eyes warm and soft as he gazed at me. “What do you think, my lady?” 

“I believe I was just leaving,” I said, looking away as my face flushed an even deeper red. 

“You were mistaken, then,” he said quietly. He pressed a kiss to my cheek and then rolled over in the bed to shield me. I immediately grabbed the sheets and pulled them up to cover my chest. He smiled and then whispered, “Stay here. This will not take long.” 

 


	9. "What shall I say then, my lady?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil confesses his love for Nyla. She tells him that she is Dragonborn. Angst ensues.

I was standing on the balcony when I felt strong arms wrap around my waist and soft lips press against my cheek. 

“I was worried you wouldn’t listen to me,” Thranduil whispered in my ear. 

“There are things I needed to speak with you about,” I said. His arms tightened around me. 

“Such as?” 

I turned to face him, attempting to keep my expression blank and uncaring. 

“I did not think our agreement extended to using me as your personal whore,” I said flatly. “Or did I miss something?” 

“What?” The aghast look on Thranduil’s face was genuine. “What are you talking about?” 

“You brought me to your chambers when I came back from battle,” I snapped. “I wake up to find myself in your bed. Not only that, but I am in clothing not suitable to be in the presence of royalty. Not only that, but I woke up this morning in your bed yet again. Not only that--” 

“Say ‘not only that’ one more time, Nyla, I swear to the Valar,” Thranduil interrupted quietly, placing a finger over my lips to silence me. I stared up at him, heartbeat stuttering. The light in his eyes was mesmerizing, and as he looked down at me I saw the creases in his face disappear. A small smile tugged at his lips. 

“Then explain,” I whispered. 

“Have you not felt a connection to me in the months that you have been here?” he asked. He placed a hand on my cheek, thumb stroking my cheekbone. “There is something about you, Nyla...that is so different from anyone else I’ve ever met. It draws me to you.” 

“What are you saying?” I muttered; the air in my lungs suddenly turned to honey, unwilling to leave, unwilling to allow more in. 

“What I am saying, Nyla, is that in our time together...I believe that I have fallen in love with you.”  He looked down at the ground, shifting slightly. “You left to find my soldiers, and when you didn’t come back…” I heard the smallest of breaks in his voice, and then suddenly he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his chest, burying his face in my hair. “I thought I had lost you forever, and that scared me...the mere notion that I wouldn’t be able to hear your laugh, or see your disapproval, or even listen to you sing when you think no one is around…I couldn’t face it. I was making ready to go after you when you came back.” 

I pushed away from him with a frown. 

“Wait, what? When have you heard me singing?” I asked, suddenly nervous. He chuckled. 

“You sing to yourself when you clean your armor,” he said, “and when you’re looking for a new book to read.” I relaxed slightly. 

“As long as you’re not stalking me in the shower,” I muttered. A wicked gleam entered his eyes. 

“Do not give me ideas, my lady,” he growled quietly. He leaned in and stole a kiss. 

My mind was racing as I melted into him. When he allowed me a moment to gasp for air, I managed to say, “How is it that I’m more concerned about where you’ve heard me singing than the fact that you just told me you’re in love with me?” He laughed, a full throat affair that gave me goosebumps. 

“Perhaps it means that you’re in love with me as well?” he asked, smoothing my hair from my face. “Or maybe you just have your priorities out of order. I cannot read you well enough to know what is the truth.” 

“Do not tease me when you’ve just proclaimed your love for me.” I hit him in mock scandalization. “It’s unbecoming of a King.” 

“What shall I say then, my lady?” Another stolen kiss that took my breath away, and then he whispered in my ear, “Would you prefer if I asked you to become my queen over a romantic dinner and candles?” He nipped at my earlobe and added, “Please, Nyla, say something. Tell me that I am not alone in my feelings.” 

“You’re being very distracting,” I told him, putting both hands on his chest and attempting to shove him away. He just captured my wrists and kept me near to him. He had no witty reply, only silence as he waited. I bit my lip and turned my head away, trying to ignore the comfortable warmth his body radiated. There was no easy way to let him down. 

“Nyla?” he murmured when I continued to remain silent for a few minutes. “Tell me what’s wrong.” His grip slackened and he whispered dejectedly, “If none of this is welcomed, I understand. Perhaps I was a fool to think that you would feel the same.” 

“I wish to become your queen,” I said quickly, still not making eye contact with him. “But it would not work between us, Thranduil.” 

“Isn’t that our decision?” he asked fiercely. 

“Thranduil, please.” I finally looked at him; his blue eyes were intensely defensive. “You’re the Elvenking. And I…” I hesitated for a moment. How could I tell him that I was part of the race that had killed his wife and scarred him forever? I couldn’t bear to say it. Eventually, I pushed out, “I am a Dunedain. Not even half-elf. What would your people think?” 

“My people will accept you. You are not the only human to sit on an elven throne,” he said. “Even Lord Elrond is not fully of our people.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “This isn’t the whole truth, Nyla. There is something else bothering you. What is it?” 

I didn’t know what else to tell him. 

“Show me your scar,” I said. He blinked at me in surprise, and then closed his eyes, murmuring under his breath. The mirror spell slowly faded, and for the second time I was able to see his dragon burn. He opened his eyes, watching me cautiously as I lifted a hand and gently traced the ridges of his burn with my fingertips, carefully stroking the blistered flesh beneath his eye, running my thumb over his brow. I tilted my head and studied his damaged eye, noticing streaks of gold and red running through the faded iris. 

“Nyla,” he breathed. I shook my head and pulled back. 

“I cannot love you, Thranduil. I fear my heart will break if I tell you who I really am and you push me away, as I know you will.” 

“Don’t take that choice away from me,” he growled. “Allow me to decide, please.” 

“Thranduil, don’t,” I started to say, but he cut me off. 

“You’re dancing around the truth as if you’re afraid of it,” he said. “Don’t you trust me?” He grasped my shoulders and forced me to look at him. “Please, just tell me,” he begged. “If you must tell me no, then at least allow me to know the reason why.” There were actual tears in his eyes, and I found myself unable to resist. 

“I am Dragonborn,” I blurted out. He froze, staring at me in shock. When he didn’t offer any comment, I murmured, “My mother was the warrior dragon Vaharalygh. She fought against Sauron in the great war, and when the war was over, she settled down with my father in the Riddermark.” I shrugged out from underneath his touch. “My people gave you that scar, Thranduil. I know of your hatred for them. Why shouldn’t that hatred extend to me?” 

He made no reply, continuing to stare at me as if seeing me for the first time. When he didn’t move, I sighed. 

“You see, then, why I cannot become your queen.” He, again, said nothing. I sighed.

“Then this is where I take my leave, Your Majesty.” I gave a quick curtsey and turned to go. A strong hand caught me and held me back. I whirled to confront him, sure that he wanted to verbally dress me down for lying to him. Instead, his face was blank, his eyes empty. 

“My lady,” he said calmly. “Does this mean you will be leaving my kingdom?” 

“If that’s what you would desire.” He didn’t respond. After a few moments, I said coldly, “Then I think that is best. If you’ll excuse me.” I shook his hand off of me and walked away, shoulders thrown back proudly. But for the first time in a very long time, all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball somewhere and hide the tears that were streaming down my face. 

*************************

“My lady?” I looked up to see Galeth standing in the doorway. He took in my packed bag and the bow case I was carefully unwrapping on my bed and sighed. “You’re leaving, then.” 

“I have stayed too long here.” I ran my hands over my bow, trying to warm up the wood before stringing it. “It’s time for me to move on.” 

“My King has been asking for you,” he said. 

“Probably to have me thrown in his dungeon,” I muttered. 

“No, he told me that he had a gift to give you,” he said. “He seemed upset. Is everything alright?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then why are you crying?” he asked quietly, moving over to take my face in his hands and wipe away tears that fell without my permission. I shook my head. 

“I told him the truth. And he didn’t like it.” I took a deep breath, clinging to the ache from my still-healing wound, allowing it to ground me. “I allowed myself to get too close to him. And when it came time to tell him the truth about me…” I swallowed, unable to continue. Galeth smiled sadly and enveloped me in a warm hug. 

“Then travel safely, Lady Nyla. May we one day meet again.” 

**************************

I was almost to the stables when I ran into Thranduil. He had the elven woman from earlier hanging onto his elbow; she was giggling and laughing. I wrinkled my nose slightly in disgust and, to my utter surprise, jealousy. I bowed my head and muttered, “My King” as they passed. 

“Lady Nyla.” His tone was expectant. I turned around and graced him with a curtsey. 

“I was just on my way, Your Majesty,” I told him. His eyes stormed a dismal grey, and he took a step towards me. 

The elven woman interrupted. 

“Isn’t that the human whore I caught you cavorting about in your bed with?” she asked snappishly. “Finally, you had the sense to send her away.” 

“I am not--,” I began hotly. 

“I am not sending her away,” Thranduil said coldly. “And I will thank you to leave me now.” She looked up at him in disbelief. 

“I--” 

“I told you not to insult her again,” he growled. “Now, get out of my sight. I will see to it that your guards are prepared for the journey home tomorrow morning.” 

“This is outrageous, how--,” she spluttered. Thranduil sighed. 

“I told you, if you insulted her again, I would throw you out of my kingdom myself. Consider this your last warning, Torrentian.” He pushed her hand off of his arm and walked over to me, turning his back on her. She stood, looking flabbergasted for a moment, before spinning on her heel and flouncing off with a huff. 

“Nyla,” he murmured. I lifted my chin and did my best to keep my face stoic. 

“Who was that, my King?” I asked disinterestedly. He shook his head in disgust. 

“Nyla--” 

“It’s no matter. I suppose she would make a good queen.” I turned away from him and began walking towards the stables again. He caught my wrist and pulled me back to him. 

“She is the daughter of a very influential noble family near Imladris,” he hissed. “Do not pretend that you don’t care, Nyla. I know you do.” 

“Yes, you know me so well, Thranduil,” I snapped, wrenching away from him. “I’m grateful that you can read my mind and say exactly what I’m thinking for me.” 

“I do not wish to discuss this with you, my lady,” he said coldly. “I had asked Galeth whether he had seen you. He told me you were leaving.” 

“As you wished me to.” I folded my arms, glaring at him defensively. 

“I did not say that,” he growled. 

“You might as well have,” I replied venomously. “I--” 

“Nyla--,” he began again, annoyance coloring his voice. 

“Your Majesty!” An elven runner ran up, stopping a few feet away to salute smartly. Noticing me, he gave a curt nod. “My lady.” 

“What is it?” Thranduil snarled. 

“We have captured 12 dwarves in the forest. Legolas is bringing them in now.” Thranduil sighed in exasperation. 

“Very well. Have them brought to the throne chamber.” The messenger bowed and ran off. Thranduil turned to me. “I did not want you to leave, Nyla.” 

“You didn’t tell me otherwise,” I muttered. He rolled his eyes and came towards me, hands extended to grasp mine. I backed away from him. “What are you doing?” 

“Nyla, please,” he said. “Will you listen to me?” 

“What were your words, exactly?” I asked. “All dragons are monsters and they should all die?” 

“I should not have said those things,” Thranduil murmured. “I know this. Nyla, listen to me--” 

“You have business to attend to, my King,” I cut him off. “12 dwarves lay trussed up on your floors. I wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.” 

“You are more important,” he said. I stared at him, eyes narrowed. He took a deep breath, and then let it out a huge sigh. “I wish you would hear me out. I have so much to say to you…” He rubbed his face with slender fingers. Suddenly he seemed to me to be so ancient, weighed down by countless centuries of worries and doubts. I held my breath and watched him cautiously. 

When he met my gaze again, there was a fire in the depths of his eyes that made my heart beat quicken. Without another word he pushed me back against the wall, towering over me. 

“Don’t leave,” he breathed. “Please.” 

“I can’t stay,” I murmured, struggling not to relax against the weight of him. “You know who I am now.” 

“Nyla, that is no reason for you to run off,” he said. I glared at him. 

“When you want to destroy my race, then yeah, it’s a wonderful reason for me to leave,” I snapped. “Again, if you hate dragons so much, why shouldn’t you hate me?” 

“You don’t make my decisions,” he murmured. There was no anger in his voice, only calm fact. “Should and do are two very different things.” He leaned closer, leaning his forehead against mine. I shoved him away. 

“You can’t have it both ways, Your Majesty,” I said coldly. “I’ll be leaving now.” I turned away and stormed off, hiding behind my anger. Another messenger ran past me. 

“Your Majesty!” I heard him cry. 

“Not now, Elthin,” Thranduil snarled. “Nyla!” I didn’t turn back, not even when I heard his voice crack as he cried out my name for the last time, or when I rode through the gates of the palace into the darkening forest. 

 


	10. Laketown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snapshot of Nyla on duty

“Miss?” I blinked and turned my head towards the barmaid, a slight glare in my gaze. She immediately reddened and looked down at the floor. “I was just wondering, miss...might I see your sword?” She wrung her hands slightly in her apron, biting her lip in embarrassment. I raised an eyebrow. 

“You want to see my sword?” I murmured. “Why?” 

“She’s obsessed with fighting and women who can fight.” The owner of the inn I was staying at appeared at the bar. “She thinks if she can get someone to help train her, she can become a hero.” He laughed in derision as the maid looked at him with splotches of angry red taking over her embarrassed blush. “As if.” 

“You don’t think her capable?” I asked, leaning back against the bar and showcasing the hilt of the sword at my hip. He rolled his eyes. 

“She’s as squeamish as a baby mouse. Besides, no one leaves Laketown, not for long.” He gestured towards the door. “Bandits, elves, dragons...it’s too much. They all come running back eventually.” 

I shrugged. 

“Bravery isn’t the absence of fear. It’s the will to continue even when your stomach is a rolling ocean and your limbs are made of loose string.” I looked at the maid with a small smile and gave her a quick wink. “Anyone can face their fears. It’s all in how you face them.” I stood and stretched before adding, “No one leaves Laketown because they can’t afford to, sir. Not because they are afraid. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be off.” 

The owner scoffed and beckoned the girl to come to the back room with him, turning his back on me. She stared at him, and then at me, hope in her eyes. I grinned. 

“One day, you’ll know how to face your demons. And then, maybe, you can learn to be your own hero.” I slipped my hand into my pocket and pulled out a small dagger, flipping it in my hand and offering the hilt to her. “Every girl should carry herself with pride, and know how to hold a knife.” She stared wide eyed at the weapon, and then at me. I nodded at her to take it. Her slender fingers slid around the hilt, taking it from my grasp. As she became used to the weight of it, her face began to shine with excitement. After slashing it through the air a couple of times, she shyly curtseyed to me. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

“You’re welcome,” I replied. “Don’t be a mouse anymore. Be a lioness.” Without waiting for a response, I slung my quiver and my bag over my shoulder, pulled up my cowl, and left. 

Laketown was a small, dingy affair built on narrow canals and stilts in the middle of the lake.  The people were just the same, dingy with hunched shoulders and long skeletal limbs that betrayed their meager diet. They watched with distrust in their fear-lined eyes as I walked past them, dark Ranger’s cloak billowing in my wake. The longer I stayed, the angrier at the Mayor I became. 

The Mayor’s house stood in the middle of the town, and it overshadowed each building around it. Opulently decorated with winding ironwork and brass inlaid doors, it was obviously built from taxes pulled out from under the inhabitants of Laketown. I stalked up the concrete steps and rapped loudly on the door. After a few long minutes of waiting, the door creaked open to reveal the face of a servant. 

“Who’s there?” she croaked, deep lines running through her face. I bowed my head in greeting. 

“Ranger Steinarrsdatter. I’m here to see the Mayor.” She looked me up and down, then gazed into my face. The despair in her eyes made my own slightly wet. 

“Rangers have come and gone here, my Lady,” she rasped out. “And yet nothing changes.” 

“I am so sorry, Mother.” Her eyes widened slightly at my use of the honorific. I smiled gently. “I am no ordinary Ranger. I will not leave until I see change.” She gave me a timid smile and opened the door wider in silent invitation. 

The woman led me through the large house, past sloppy paintings housed in sickeningly ornate frames. I caught glimpses of huge rooms with vaulted ceilings and velvet curtains, and the carpet beneath us was richly ornamented, although it looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in years. After a few moments, we arrived at a large wooden door. The woman raised a quavering hand and knocked quietly. 

“Come in,” a bored voice groaned. The maid opened the door and ushered me inside. 

“Ranger Steinarrsdatter to see you, my lord,” she murmured, before quickly leaving and shutting the door behind her. 

“Ah. Another Ranger.” The Mayor, who was seated at a large table, took another bite of what seemed to be a whole loaf of bread. With his mouth still stuffed, he said thickly, “Heard about the lucrative business here and decided to cash in?” With his unoccupied hand, he brushed strands of greasy red hair out of his face, beady eyes focusing on me with slight difficulty. I folded my arms and set my jaw angrily. 

“It seems that you need a reminder about a Ranger’s duties.” His eyebrows drew together when I left off his title. Allowing my distaste for him to sink in, I continued. “We keep the balance, we protect the innocent, and we do not condone corruption.” I stalked toward him and planted my hands on the table. Leaning forward, I growled, “The men you’ve been paying off should be ashamed of themselves. But I cannot be bought. This corruption stops here.” 

His eyes went wide, and he stopped chewing to stare at me. I flashed him a brilliant smile and straightened up. 

"Have a wonderful rest of your day, Mayor. We have a lot of work to do." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long since I've posted! So many things have happened in my personal life that I haven't had time to sit down and write. But don't worry! Smaug is making a reappearance soon, and Nyla will continue to be her badass self.


	11. Death of a Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyla kicks some dragon ass.

Bilbo returned to us, white and shaking. 

“He’s huge!” he hissed. I rolled my eyes. 

“He’s a dragon, you silly hobbit. Of course he’s going to be big.” I tried to control my shaking hands, being so close to the dragon that haunted my dreams. 

The party of Thorin Oakenshield had arrived in Laketown not long after my talk with the mayor. Immediately he seized upon the chance to be the hero to his people and proposed sending them away to get the gold and bring everyone good fortune. I didn’t buy his sudden change in attitude; more likely he was hoping to keep the gold for himself. 

“What do we do now?” Bilbo asked quietly. The rest of the group turned to Thorin, who was deep in thought. After a few moments, he shrugged. 

“We can sneak up on him as he is asleep--” 

“I did that!” Bilbo snapped indignantly. “He smelled me in his dreams and roused in seconds! That’s not going to work!” 

The dwarves began arguing with each other furiously. After a few minutes, I growled under my breath and then snapped, “Enough.” Immediately there was silence. I gazed around at all of them, then shook my head and sighed. 

“I will face the dragon.” 

My words hung in the air as each dwarf’s face became overcome with shock. I waited for them to disagree, to start yelling again, but there was nothing. I looked at Thorin and continued quietly, “I am Dragonborn. It is my right to fight him. And I am the only one out of all of us that has any prayer of overcoming him.” 

“There’s still a chance you might die,” Bilbo protested. I smiled bitterly at him. 

“You know how my kind is treated, my dear hobbit,” I murmured. “It’s only a matter of time before someone slips a knife between my ribs. Better to go down swinging as a hero than to die in the middle of the night at the hands of a terrified villager.” 

“We knew,” Bofur said with a hint of a whine to his voice. “We knew, and we didn’t care.” 

“If you’re doing this because you have a death wish, then I will have to restrain you,” Thorin growled; his eyes were eerily bright in the darkness. I shook my head. 

“This is a task for me, and for me alone.” I turned and slipped past of all of them, heading down the same tunnel Bilbo had come from. “Wish me luck,” I threw flippantly over my shoulder as I left the party and dove deep into the underbelly of the mountain. 

I could feel his presence, even though I was nowhere near him. A malicious, jewel plated consciousness brushed against the edges of my senses, making me shiver. In the back of my mind, I could almost see his mind, a mass of black and white smoke that roiled in odd shapes, flickering every now and then with light. The image only grew stronger the farther along in the tunnels I crept. Eventually, I came to an archway that spilled golden light into the dark passageway. His dreams were almost overpowering, the flashes of light making me wince as they stabbed at my temples. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. 

I had only done this once before. I was twelve. A green-gold dragon had begun terrorizing the tribe of Dunedain that I lived with, and by accident, I came face to face with him during a night raid. Something inside of me burst to life then and there was only blackness afterward. All I knew was that I woke up later unscathed next to the half-burnt carcass of the dragon.

I focused on the fear I felt, the desperation to run away, the resignation that stemmed from knowing I had to stay. I examined Smaug’s mind, allowing myself to drop the mental shields I had put up to keep him out. Immediately my head spun, and my knees weakened. I leaned heavily against the wall behind me to keep my balance and persisted as his consciousness rolled over me, thick and overpowering. He stirred slightly, the flashes of light becoming brighter. Taking another deep breath to steady myself, I straightened and turned the corner into the dragon’s lair. 

I felt the moment he was truly awake shaking through my bones, his mind so bright it almost made my knees give out. He snarled a little and then I heard a low growling voice whisper, “You smell of dragonscales and burnt blood, but you are not fullborn. Who are you?” 

“You once accused me of being rude for forgetting you,” I replied evenly, not bothering to raise my voice. I knew he could hear me, as connected as we were. “Shall I say the same of you?” I carefully stepped into the piles of gold surrounding me, looking around at the gem-encrusted pillars. “Or am I simply too small to acknowledge?” 

He chuckled dryly. 

“The scared little girl speaks so bravely,” he mocked. “I feel your fear. It sours your scent.” 

“There is no one who can face you but me,” I said. “Why else would I be here?” 

“You can run, and the dwarves can forget their mountain.” A shower of gold slid down on a particularly large heap, and I saw an enormous green eye blink and focus on me. “I won’t give up my hoard, not willingly.” 

“Brave words for a lizard who calls himself ‘Fire and death’,” I said taunted. “I’m sure you wouldn’t be any harder to defeat than an entire nest of Shelob’s kin.” 

A rumbling growl shook the whole room, and the gold shifted to reveal the knobby top of the dragon’s head. 

“You are the little halfblood under the care of the Elven King,” he snarled. “I smell you now, beneath the fear. Not so fearless now that we are face to face, I see.” 

“I do not fear you,” I said calmly. The dragon huffed. I smiled slightly and then whispered, “I am more afraid of myself. I have never let my power out before. Shall we test it on you, and see my true strength?” 

The dragon roared angrily and sat up straight, scattering gold everywhere. His enormous golden eyes burned with menacing hatred as he towered over me; standing upright, the crest on the back of his neck brushed the vaulted ceiling of the treasure room. 

“I am Smaug, Destroyer of the kingdom of Thrain! I am called Durin’s Bane! I am the one who made the skin of the Elvenking melt, and the city of Dane tremble. You dare to think you could overcome me?” He spread his wings to their full extent, flaring them outwards to make himself look bigger. Which wasn’t entirely necessary, considering he was almost as big as the mountain itself. 

_ My little warrior,  _ I heard my mother whisper suddenly.  _ You are Dragonborn. Now fight like it.  _ I took a deep breath and looked Smaug straight in the eyes. 

“I dare,” I said boldly. “I dare because I am Nyla of the Dunedain, the killing storm, daughter of the warrior dragon Vaharlygh, who brought about the fall of Sauron during the Great War. I have the blood of the Rohirrim in my veins and the magic of dragons in my soul. And you,” I drew my sword and leveled it at him, “are going to leave this mountain.” 

Smaug stared at me for a moment. I could feel anger and a slight sliver of fear twisting through the connection I had with him. He leaned forward so that his enormous head was hovering over me, one eye facing me. 

“You are Vaharalygh’s brat?” he murmured. The fear in him spiked. I nodded. He rumbled uneasily. “She fought alongside Man and Elf to rid the land of the Dark One. Such actions were...admirable.” He blinked, and the fear subsided. “She is no longer with us, I assume? Otherwise, she would be here, instead of her miserable pup.” He licked his teeth and emitted a seething hiss. “She might have been strong, but you are nothing compared to her.” The fear left him altogether, and he straightened, opening his jaws wide and allowing a gout of flame to burst forward. “Hear this, daughter of Vaharalygh. No underwhelming pup of an ancient, dead hero is going to drive me from my hoard.” 

I gritted my teeth. 

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” I muttered. He snapped his teeth and darted forward, one large taloned paw extended to rip me apart. 

In that moment, as I watched him approach, I felt a familiar presence settle over me and consume whatever fear I had left. My sword fell from limp fingers to clatter to the gold covered floor. With an angry growl, I swept both hands up, palms out, to face the rushing dragon. Energy pulsed through me, and my vision became overlaid with blue and green shot through with purple. Smaug howled, his enormous claws slashing down over my head just as a bolt of colored fire jumped from my hands and smashed into his chest. It blasted him backward, causing him to careen into a pile of gems and coins. He screeched in pain as he landed awkwardly on one wing. 

Hands still raised, I waited. My mother’s magic remained, sending tingling jolts of electricity through my veins. Smaug scrambled to his feet and puffed smoke at me, his eyes dilated with rage. 

“I will destroy you,” he seethed. 

“I’d like to see you try,” I snapped back with a bravado that I did not quite feel. He pounced again, both paws swiping from either side in an attempt to squish me between the two of them. I dove forward, head first, and rolled to my feet as he thundered into a pillar. I turned to face him, and with a harsh slash of my arm, a pillar of fire exploded from my hand and singed his wings and backside, making him wail. More fire flickered to life at my fingertips in preparation for another attack as I stood, waiting. 

Smaug scrambled to his feet and fled towards the other end of the treasure room. I ran after him, barely noticing the treacherous piles of money shifting beneath my weight. He barreled through the stone wall and into a throne room that opened to the sky. 

“If I am leaving this mountain, then I will take the town with it!” he snarled as he loped with urgency down the main hall.  His talons left enormous scars in the floor. I raced after him, heart pounding. He extended his wings and leapt out into the open air just as I reached the edge of the throne room. Without thinking, I spread my arms and jumped after him.  

Firey heat swirled in the pit of my stomach and began to branch out towards my extremities. Something smooth and hard began racing up my spine, stretching over my shoulders and encasing my arms. Talons formed at the tips of my fingers, and something enormous burst out of the molten hardness on my back, unfurling quickly to catch the wind. My body jolted to a stop, earning a grunt as the pressure almost ripped the hardened mass off of my skin. I could new muscles exerting pressure to keep me aloft, regularly beating up and down, and a soft rush of wings filled my ears. 

I didn’t have much time to think about my newfound wings; my eyes focused on Smaug, and my instincts took over once more. I darted forward in the air, only barely noticing how easily my muscles learned what it took to keep me speeding aloft. Smaug roared and allowed a burst of dragonflame to erupt from his jaws, painting the sky with a deep red fire. Even from this distance, I could hear the screams of the townspeople as they spotted him. 

He flared his wings and hovered over Laketown for a moment, surveying the ramshackle buildings. His tail whipped through the air in cat-like frustration. 

“If I cannot have my mountain,” he roared loudly, “then you shall not have homes!” He howled again, expelling more firey breath, and then dove downwards, intent on laying the city to waste. 

Desperately, I threw a hand out, aiming a fireball at him. He dodged it easily and lit the Mayor’s house on fire with a puff. I screamed in animalistic rage and rammed into him, talons scrabbling for purchase on his stiff hide. He snapped his teeth at me, and I was forced to drop below him to avoid getting teeth marks in my wings. He rolled over and set fire to a row of buildings, laughing as he did so. I growled and climbed to hover over him. 

“Stop this, Smaug!” I cried. He left the city behind with a few beats of his wings and banked left for another run. I dive bombed him again, landing on top of him with enough force to knock him a few degrees downwards. But I wasn’t big enough, or strong enough. He rolled over and spat fire at me, which I barely had seconds to dodge. 

“As if you could stop me, weakling,” he challenged. “There are no chinks in my armor and no way for you to dissuade me from taking my revenge!” 

I continued to harry him as he lit every last building ablaze. I didn’t even slow him down. I eventually had to give up and start scooping people up from the burning buildings, throwing them into the lake to put out flaming clothes and to save them from being singed by burning wood. After depositing a screaming man into the lake, I heard shouts coming from the bell tower. I turned to see Bard and his son hurriedly climbing the structure, which was somehow the only building not on fire. Bard was holding something large and black in one hand. I darted towards them, landing softly on the platform just as they reached it. 

“Get back!” Bard snapped, brandishing what looked like an enormous iron arrow. I held up my hands in surrender. 

“I am not your enemy,” I said, internally thanking the gods that my mouth was still human. 

“You look like one of them,” he growled, holding his son a little closer. 

“You would too if you had any chance of fighting him,” I replied coolly, warily watching the arrow in his hands. “What is that?” 

“It is a dragonslayer’s arrow,” Bard’s son blurted out. Bard glared down at him.

“If you want to kill him, give it to me,” I said quietly. The man let out a bark of laughter. 

“How do I know you’re not working with him?” he demanded. I sighed. 

“We only have so much time,” I hissed. “Are you that good of an aim that you won’t miss?” 

“Yes,” Bard said defiantly. “I am one of the best.” 

“You can’t fly,” I pointed out icily. 

“I know where his weakness is,” Bard retorted angrily, hand tightening on his son’s shoulder. He looked down at the arrow, then up at Smaug, who had begun circling again. Then he looked at me, and I saw the naked terror in his eyes. 

“Please,” I murmured quietly. “Allow me to help you.” 

Bard hesitated, and then silently handed over the dragonslayer’s arrow. 

“There is a place in his underbelly where a scale is missing,” he said, eyes downcast. “A gem must have been there once upon a time, but it is long gone. I saw it as he passed over my house.” 

“Thank you,” I murmured. “Now go. Get your son to safety.” 

“If you miss, I will kill you,” he threatened, glancing up at me. I chuckled wryly. 

“You’ll have to stand in line then, because Smaug will probably get there first,” I said. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. 

Gripping the arrow in my taloned hands, I flared my wings and took off, rocketing skyward. Smaug noticed me and blew a column of fire in my direction; his aim was lazy, and it took nothing for me to dodge. 

“Are you becoming tired, Fire and Death?” I taunted, darting towards him. He swung his tail at me, forcing me to drop below it. 

“I am only losing interest in the flies bothering me,” he snarled, rolling leisurely in mid-air. “Have you given up yet?” I quickly dashed out of view, and he snapped his neck around, trying to find me. 

“If you knew my mother, then you know she would never give up. And neither will I,” I replied, continuing to evade his gaze. I circled from beneath him to hover over top of him. He was still searching for me below when I called, “Here I am!” 

Immediately he flipped over, exposing his belly. I saw the dark spot where his skin was exposed to air. In a millisecond, I was diving towards him, arrow gripped like a spear. I heard his jaws snap together just barely over my head as I evaded his teeth and drove the spear deep into his stomach. 

Searing pain erupted in my skull, and I cried out in agony. I barely heard Smaug wailing above the pounding in my head, but I could feel his consciousness thrashing as the arrow remained lodged in him. His fear swept over me, overwhelming my senses, and then there was only darkness. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long delay! It took me a while to figure out how Nyla was going to fight Smaug.   
> Stay tuned! There's more coming :)


	12. Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Nyla's battle with Smaug.

_ I stood in Thranduil’s chambers, dripping water on the floor. Pain crawled up and down my left shoulder, and I bit my lip to keep myself from crying out. What was I doing here, of all places?  _

_ The door opened, and the king himself came in. His face was pale, dark purple shadows under his eyes accentuating the deep lines around his eyes and mouth. He seemed to have aged since I left him. He stopped when he saw me, and his mouth opened in surprise.  _

_ “Nyla?” he whispered.  _

_ “Thranduil,” I managed to choke out. Gods I was in so much pain, it hurt to think. He rushed forwards, taking my hands. I whimpered when his thumb brushed burnt skin on the back of my left hand. He looked down and gasped aloud when he saw what had happened.  _

_ “Nyla, who did this to you?” he demanded. I shook my head.  _

_ “He’s dead,” I croaked. Thranduil’s face darkened.  _

_ “Nyla, why are you here?” he asked quietly. I shook my head again.  _

_ “I don’t know,” I whispered. “I…”  _

 

“Lady Nyla!” a hand shook my awake. I bolted upright, then shrieked in pain as the burnt skin on my shoulder stretched. I looked down to see the same pattern of scarring as that on Thranduil’s face spread over the back of my hand and up my arm. I took a deep breath and pushed down the throbbing pain. 

“Where is Smaug?” I demanded, looking around wildly. 

“Being chopped up for food storage,” a kindly voice said. I whipped around, wincing, to see Gandalf the Grey sitting beside my bed. I immediately relaxed. 

“Gandalf,” I said with a smile. “Where in the hell have you been?” 

“I have been...detained,” Gandalf said. His face became shadowed with doubt. “I thought the Darkness had been defeated. I might have been wrong…” He shook his head. “Evil things have been stirring in Dol Guldur. And not just Shelob. The witchking of Angmar has risen, as have the other wraiths.” His demeanor changed suddenly, and he gave me a smile. “But now is not the time to be lost in such dark thoughts. Not after the great deed you have done here.” 

His words cut me, and I flinched slightly. He frowned. 

“It is not good, what I have done,” I murmured, staring down at my hands. 

“You freed the people of Laketown from the plague that terrorized them for many years,” Gandalf said quietly. “Is that not a great feat?” 

“I killed my own kin,” I whispered. “I felt him die, in my head, and it was by my own hand.” I shuddered, close to tears. “It was awful, Gandalf...his pain was mine. I was connected to him by blood, and I murdered him…” 

“You killed a creature who thrived on the murder of others, and who would have destroyed many more innocent people if you had refused to help.” I could feel Gandalf’s scrutiny as if his eyes were seeing right through my skin. Eventually, he said, “You are not only feeling the death of Smaug. You are worried about your transformation as well.” 

I looked up to glare halfheartedly at him. 

“You see right through me, don’t you,” I mumbled. He sighed. 

“Nyla, as long as you have been alive, I have been able to see what is in your heart,” he said. “I would not have chosen to continue to be your guardian if I saw any evil in you.” He smiled sympathetically. “You are shaken by the form you took.” 

“I didn’t expect to become half dragon,” I admitted. “And I didn’t expect my instincts to take over so much.” The memory of jumping out of the throne room without a care in the world made my stomach churn. He laughed. 

“You have always had those instincts, Nyla,” he chuckled. “They are what make you such a great swordsman. As for the transformation...you do not feel any different, do you?” 

I closed my eyes and did a quick assessment. Everything felt normal, except for the burn that continued to throb painfully. I opened my eyes again. 

“No,” I said truthfully. He nodded. 

“You have nothing to fear,” he said with a wink. “A little more practice and it will be easier for you.” 

“You will help me, right?” I asked. Immediately I felt like a child. 

“Nyla,” Gandalf said sternly. “I am your guardian. Of course I will help you.” He added with a twinkle in his eye, “After all, just because you are a grown woman doesn’t mean you don’t need someone to watch out for you.” 

“I don’t need anyone watching out for me,” I grumbled, although I felt warmth in my heart. 

“You are lucky I was,” he said, pointing a finger at me and shaking it mock-angrily. “You would have drowned otherwise.” 

I blinked. 

“What?” 

“You fell with Smaug into the lake,” he explained. “If I hadn’t been looking for you, I wouldn’t have pulled you out of the water.” 

“I don’t remember that…” I whispered. The water dripping onto Thranduil’s floor...I shook my head and refocused. “So now you have saved my life twice,” I said flippantly. “How can I repay you?” 

“You can stick around and help with those dratted dwarves,” Gandalf muttered. I frowned. 

“What about them? They have their mountain back.” 

“Aye,” he growled. “And now they refuse to give the gold they promised.” 

My heart sank. 

“Thorin has dragon sickness,” I whispered. Gandalf nodded. 

“It appears so. And now the people of Laketown are demanding that he give them their gold so they can rebuild their town. Especially since they blame its destruction on him.” 

“A bloody dragon burnt their town to ashes, not a dwarf,” I growled. Gandalf shrugged. 

“Let them have their fight,” he said. “It may be the only way to snap Thorin out of his gold obsession. Besides, I have heard that the Elves are coming to reclaim what is theirs as well. This could turn out to be quite an interesting fight.” 

“Three sides...gods why…” I muttered. 

*****************************

“You are the one that helped them into the mountain,” Bard said quietly. I rolled my eyes and swallowed down the anger bubbling in my throat like dragonflame. 

“All I did was kill the dragon,” I growled. 

“And that allowed them to reclaim their kingdom!” he snapped. 

I clenched my fists. 

“Do not blame this on me,” I snarled. I felt energy running down my nerves, and tiny flames tickled the insides of my palms. I took a deep breath and forced myself to relax, continuing to glare at him. 

“Regardless of how it happened, the dwarves have retaken Erebor, and we are left in this conundrum,” Gandalf interjected hastily when Bard opened his mouth to say something else. The man subsided with a snort. Gandalf turned to me, eyebrow raised. “You’ve made quite an impression here, my lady.” 

“Not my fault he doesn’t like the way I do my job,” I growled. 

“And what exactly is your job?” Bard asked. “You haven’t done much since you arrived in Laketown except stare at everyone and scare the children.” 

I bristled. “That’s part of the job,” I said. “I’m a Ranger. I watch. I listen. I take care of the problem.” I gestured in the general direction of the Lonely Mountain. “I would say that death is a pretty final way to get rid of a problem, wouldn’t you?” 

“Then where were you when Smaug took Dain?” Bard snarled. “Where were the Rangers when he killed all of those people and drove the dwarves out of their lands?” 

“I’m not hearing a whole lot of gratitude from you, Bowman,” I growled. “Would you have preferred I stay in Dol Guldur and not bothered myself with the dragon?” 

“You say you’re here for justice,” he spat. “You could have freed us from the mayor a long time ago.” He tightened his fists and advanced on me. “You just wanted the credit of being a dragon slayer. You’re no better than the elves in their trees, or the dwarves with their gold. You don’t care about us.” 

I bristled further; the flames in my hands grew in size. “Watch what you say to me, Bard,” I said coldly. 

“So you don’t have to hear the truth?” He gave vent to a bark of grim laughter. “Funny. Have I hit a nerve?” 

I leapt forward and grabbed his neck, hauling him closer to me until our noses were almost touching; one hand crackled with blue fire, singeing his eyebrows slightly. 

“I saved your children’s lives,” I whispered. “I killed the dragon. You’ll never have to worry about him destroying your town again. And now I’m here to help you get your rightful share of the gold.” I shoved him away; he slammed into the rickety wooden table, knocking papers from it. “Do not attempt to lecture me about truth. ” 

“I have hit a nerve,” Bard sneered triumphantly. I opened my mouth, but Gandalf cut me off with a shake of his head. He turned to the man. 

“Lady Nyla is Dragonborn,” Gandalf said calmly. Bard stiffened, shocked. He turned to me and looked me over, his face paling. I stared back at him, forcing myself not to shift uncomfortably under his gaze. Gandalf smiled sadly and added, “Killing her own kind was extremely difficult for her. But she did it, to protect you.” 

Bard said nothing, only staring at me with wide eyes. I looked away finally, taking a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart.

Thankfully the awkwardness was diffused slightly by a horn sounding in the distance, and the tramping of many feet. Gandalf sighed. 

“That must be the Elvenking,” he grimaced. I frowned. 

“What would Thranduil be doing here?” I asked. He shook his head. 

“He sent a messenger a few days ago, asking whether Smaug was truly dead. When I told him what happened, he said that he was coming to recollect some coveted elvish jewels that the dwarves have had in their possession for some time.” He laughed grimly and rubbed his face with his hands. “I suppose the more the merrier, right?” 

“I had heard he gave those jewels to Thrain as a gift,” Bard muttered. “Greedy bastard.” 

“Careful what you say, son of man,” a familiar voice murmured. The three of us turned to see Thranduil standing just outside the entrance of the tent. “You never know who might be listening.” 

“Your Majesty,” Gandalf said with a smile. I jerked my head in a stiff nod and focused my attention on my scuffed boots. Bard was left speechless at the king’s sudden arrival; he fumbled over his words for a moment before managing to say, “Your Majesty. I--” 

“No offense taken,” Thranduil said lightly. “I will not argue with the truth. I can be a selfish and greedy monarch.” 

Suddenly a warm hand touched my shoulder gently. Unfortunately, the tender gesture unwittingly found my wounded half. I flinched away in pain and took a step backward, looking up into Thranduil’s face. He was immediately concerned. 

“Lady Nyla, are you all right?” he asked. His face was a mixture of sorrow and fear; he was exactly as I had seen him in my dream. 

“I fought a dragon,” I said faintly. His expression changed to one of horror. He took my uninjured hand and pressed the back of it to his lips. 

“I would speak to you later about this later, my lady,” he murmured. I nodded mutely. It seemed surreal, to have him here in front of me. I was torn between anger at him for what had happened before I left Mirkwood, and relief that he was actually in front of me and not a blurred vision. 

He smiled softly. “I missed you,” he whispered. I rolled my eyes, though the corners of my mouth tugged upward slightly. 

“Of course you did,” I said snarkily. “You haven’t had anyone to wack you over the head.” He uttered a short bark of laughter and kissed the back of my hand again.  

A cough brought us back to our surroundings. 

“Your Majesty, we were just discussing the best plan of attack,” Gandalf said smoothly in an attempt to ignore what was going on. Thranduil immediately stiffened and turned towards him. 

“If it involves the lady on the front lines, I refuse to hear it,” he muttered. I growled in disgust. 

“Oh, so you’re allowed to waste the lives of your soldiers for jewels that were freely given as a gift, but I’m not allowed to fight for the cause of man? That’s rich, even coming from you, Your Majesty.” His face darkened. 

“You do not know the history of those jewels,” he snapped. “Besides, how are you going to fight with a wounded arm?” 

“The same way I always fight,” I snarled back. “I don’t know the history? They were a gift! They don’t belong to you anymore!” 

“They were only meant as a loan to the dwarves!” Thranduil said angrily. 

“Try telling that to them!” I replied. 

“You two argue like an old married couple,” Bard said quietly. Both of us pinned him with murderous glares. He held up his hands in defense. “I’m just saying.” 

“Perhaps it would be best if the war council was left to myself and Lady Nyla,” Gandalf interjected. “We should be able to come up with a plan that will end this siege quickly.” 

“And cut out a king and the ruler of man?” Thranduil demanded. Gandalf gave him a look of annoyance. 

“You have done nothing since you stepped in this tent but poked at a wounded dragon. And you,” he pointed to Bard, “are not helping in the slightest. It will be faster and much safer if the Lady and I continue by ourselves.” 

“Safer?” Bard muttered. Gandalf nodded. 

“For you, and the Elvenking. If you prod Lady Nyla any farther, Thranduil, you might end up with some serious injuries. And if Bard cannot keep his mouth shut, I will have to shut it for him.” He glanced between the two. Bard rolled his eyes but silently acquiesced, walking out of the tent with hunched shoulders. Thranduil refused to move. 

“Please do not fight,” he whispered. I rolled my eyes and tried to pull away from him; he retained his grip on my hand and stepped closer to me. I frowned at him. 

“That’s not your decision,” I said. He smiled sadly. 

“I can still ask it of you,” he murmured. “Please, Nyla. I…” He paused and looked at Gandalf. The wizard huffed and grumpily exited the tent. Once we were alone, Thranduil pulled me against him, carefully avoiding my burns, and wrapped me in his arms. 

“I am sorry, Nyla,” he said quietly. “For everything that I have said that hurt you. For everything I did.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to my forehead. “I should have been more explicit in my emotions when you told me who you were. And I…” he swallowed. When he continued his voice cracked as he said, “I should not have said those things. I remember still a time when dragons were the friends of Elves. My words were born from hatred of Smaug and others like him. I allowed him to harden my heart, and because of that I lost you…” He looked down at me, and I was caught up in the tenderness I saw there. “Please, Nyla, forgive me. Forgive me and come back to me. I...I love you.” He paused, swallowing quickly before continuing in a husky voice, "I love you, and I want nothing more than to be with you forever."  

I stared up at him, speechless. His brow furrowed and his gaze became anxious. 

“If I have said something wrong--,” he began nervously. I put my non-injured hand on his lips, silencing him. 

“How far you have come, my King,” I said. “When we first met, you never would have admitted any of that.” I smiled and removed my hand, cupping his cheek instead. “I forgive you, Thranduil. And...I love you too." 

His answering smile was dazzling. He hugged me close, burying his face in my uninjured shoulder. After a few minutes, he straightened to look at me. 

“You have never honored me as your king before,” he murmured, eyes shining. 

“You didn’t deserve it then,” I said. He chuckled. 

“And now?” he said with a small grin. 

I shrugged. “Depends on the day,” I smirked. He rolled his eyes and leaned down, pressing a kiss to my lips.

Another cough came from the direction that Gandalf had disappeared in, and Thranduil pulled away with a sigh of defeat. 

“I suppose we should really get on with planning this war,” he muttered. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned! There's much more coming :)


End file.
